


Monster of Beacon Hills

by MikoAkako



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Canon-Typical Violence, Evil!Kate, He's just not the brightest, Helpful Derek Hale, M/M, Mind Control, Misunderstandings, People don't know about werewolves, Plague, Stiles isn't stupid, really evil kate
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-03
Updated: 2014-02-09
Packaged: 2018-01-11 02:09:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1167370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MikoAkako/pseuds/MikoAkako
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone knows about the monster in the forest. Stiles himself bears a scar where the monster attacked him. When his best friend is chosen to be sacrificed to the monster, Stiles meets Derek and things spiral from there. Will Stiles ever discover Derek's secrets? Does he even want to?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This was started as part of a big bang I was never able to complete. A million apologies to anyone who was counting on me and I disappointed.

The town of Beacon Hills used to be a busy one, sitting as a crossroads from almost all of the major cities in the west. In the end, that was their undoing. Had so many people not passed through, they might have made it with minimal losses. As it was, the sickness that claimed so many lives around the country completely decimated their town, running rampant through households and leaving orphans, widows and childless parents its wake. No one was exempt from the scourge, and there was no cure. Children succumbed as easily as adults, and the oldest in the community were almost entirely wiped out. 

Stiles’ memories of the time were clear. He was one of the first to fall ill and one of the few who recovered. After his recovery, he remembered walking through town and seeing the red mark on the doors, indicating houses where the disease had struck. Within a week, every house was painted red. Medicines that reduced fevers and eased pain were quickly in short supply and finally ran out altogether. 

That was when his mother fell ill. She was a doctor in the town and she had been going from house to house since the illness started spreading. There was little she could do but treat symptoms and Stiles accompanied her. He was the one who nursed her when she was ill. He was reduced to cool water and blankets to ease her fever, and when it didn’t break on the third day he knew that her chances of survival were slim. Still he persevered.

Even when the fourth day ended and she was delirious, he didn’t leave her bedside. He changed her blankets whenever her sweat soaked through them and held cold compresses on her forehead at all hours. When the pain got to be too much he gave her a few drops of a sedative she’d instructed were to be used only in the most severe cases. 

When she was asleep he would let his fear show. His dad was busy with organizing the collection of dead bodies for burning – available burial plots having been long used up – and Stiles wasn’t sure he even knew his wife was sick. Stiles had no tears left on the fifth day, although his mother wouldn’t have known either way. She failed to rouse to his touch, and her breathing was short and labored. The fever was in her brain.  
Stiles never once left her side. He was there with cool water for her lips when they moved in silent plea, and he was there when her heart stopped. At eight years old, he experienced what it was like to be alone in the world.

Unable to deal with what had happened he left the house and took off at a run. It was night, the full moon arching above him and illuminating his path to the forest. Later he would realize that he wanted to die, but just then all he could think about was escaping the pain that had taken the physical form of his mother’s motionless body. 

The Monster of Beacon Hills had drawn in hunters from all over the world, but none who hunted it were ever seen again. None who mistakenly wandered through the forest were seen either. And sometimes a person would go missing from their home in the middle of the night, a victim of the monster’s bloodlust. In the face of the illness, fear of the monster had waned but no one would be so stupid as to enter the forest at night.

Stiles was young and foolish, and he wanted to find the clearing his mother had shown him when he was little. She’d taken him through the forest, veering from the path and taking several turns before emerging in a magical place. It was smaller than their house, but the ring of trees left the sky visible and the grass was soft to lie in. She’d made him promise never to go without her and never to go at night. 

He had listened to her, so when he found himself running in circles in the forest he should have turned back. It was already too late by that point and he still couldn’t face his mother’s body lying alone in their house.

The monster was loud, crashing through the undergrowth and Stiles knew that no one would come save him if he screamed. Instead, he turned and ran. His eight year old legs were no match for the beast and it overtook him quickly, knocking him to the ground and crushing the breath from his lungs.

“Please,” he cried, scrabbling over and turning to face it. He was scuttling backwards, aware of the red eyes locked with his and the slavering breath that stunk of dead meat. There was blood dripping down his cheek and his body was numb with shock. 

The beast paused, lips pulled back in a snarl. It was bigger than any wolf Stiles had ever heard of, and wolves were uncommon in California anyway. Yet it was a wolf that the monster reminded him of. “Aren’t you going to kill me now?” His voice was high pitched and broken but the monster made no move closer. 

Their standoff continued for another long minute. Stiles was sure that any second the beast would lunge, tearing his throat out with one swipe and ending his misery. And yet when the monster did move, it was to leap over him and disappear through the forest growth. 

Stiles stumbled back home hours later, dripping blood and covered in leaves and dirt. His dad was already there, crying at the sight of his wife. When he saw Stiles, he didn’t even yell, just gathered him up in strong arms and held him for what felt like hours. Stiles fell asleep in his dad’s arms and when he woke, his mother was gone and the blood on his face was washed to reveal a long scratch from forehead to cheek. He didn’t need to be a doctor to know he would bear the scars of that day for the rest of his life, both the internal ones and the one everyone would see.


	2. Chapter 1

Nine Years Later

“Dude! Don’t tell me you’re still into Argent,” Stiles had to reach a hand out to stop Scott from falling off the edge of the road as his neck craned towards the Girl’s School. Allison Argent, the object of Scott’s obsession for the past year, was laughing with several of the other girls. The Argents had been in Beacon Hills for years, although Allison and her father had only come after the illness nine years previous. 

“Just because you gave up on Lydia, doesn’t mean I have to give up on Allison.” Scott scowled at Stiles, although his scowls had never done much to intimidate Stiles. Hard to be intimidated when your own face looked like it had been through the meat grinder. 

True to his prediction, the wound from the Monster hadn’t healed. The scar was thick and red, marring his face and while people who knew him no longer flinched, any time he met someone new he could tell they were staring at him like he was the monster. Only Scott had never seemed to care about his deformity, accepting it and Stiles with the same good nature that he applied to all aspects of his life. Which was why, when Scott met Allison and fell head over heels, Stiles felt he was in the right to be upset.

“First, I didn’t give up on Lydia. I just had to push back my plans,” he said. That was a lie, which they both knew but normally Scott didn’t acknowledge. There was no way Lydia – most popular girl in the town Lydia – would be willing to settle with someone like Stiles, but it didn’t hurt anyone if Stiles pretended otherwise. “And second, don’t you have more important things to worry about? Like the Choosing tonight?” 

Every year for the past eight years, someone had been chosen and sent into the forest to satisfy the beast. There hadn’t been any attacks in all those years, but none of the Chosen had ever returned. Stiles faced the Choosing each year trying to hold back the panic attack that accompanied memories of the night his mom died. 

It was the monster that he’d seen; there was no doubt about that. Slavering teeth above his head still haunted his dreams and whenever he was in sight of the forest he swore he could see the glowing red eyes watching him. His scar burned on the full moons. None of which he told anyone.

The fact that the Choosing took place on his birthday was something he tried not to think about. One year older and one year closer to being chosen to face his worst nightmare. Not that anyone knew it was the monster that had given him the scar. He’d just told the doctor that after his mom died, he’d fallen down and cut himself. Since no one had ever survived being attacked by the monster, no one had questioned his story.

“C’mon, man. There’s no way we’ll be chosen. There’s like a thousand people –“

“Six hundred and fifty eight people eligible,” Stiles corrected. 

“Whatever. Still, the chance of being chosen is like…”

“.15%, I know. I’ve done the math.”

“Exactly! It’s almost zero. I’m gonna talk to Allison tonight. I just need you to cover for me for like…ten minutes. Fifteen tops. Please?” Stiles didn’t need to look at Scott to see the pleading expression on his best friend’s face. He also didn’t need to see it to know he was going to cave. He always caved.

“Fine. But only because one day you’re going to owe me.” If he really was keeping track, Scott pretty much owed him anything. Luckily for Stiles, Scott wasn’t one to deny his friends anything in his power, debt or no debt. “Now let’s go get some learning in before we face our maker.”

The day went as quickly as possible with the looming threat of immanent death hanging over them. Tempers were short and before lunch Stiles and Jackson had already insulted each other and received a week of cleaning duty. After Jackson’s comment that if he got Chosen at least he wouldn’t be forced to endure a week of Stiles, no one was much in the mood to do anything. 

When lessons ended, Stiles and Scott went together to get ready. Some people dressed up, but most just showed up a few minutes before seven and then went home right after, unless someone they knew was chosen, and then they would stay to take advantage of saying goodbye. Stiles had never known anyone who was chosen. Well, that wasn’t true. Two years ago Benny was chosen, but Stiles had only met the guy once or twice so he didn’t stick around to say anything. 

How all six hundred odd people fit in the center of town was always a surprise, and to be fair the side streets are crowded as well. There were more than the eligible there, of course. Children under thirteen weren’t eligible, but come with parents or siblings who are. Likewise, those who lived past sixty were also exempt. There weren’t many of those, and the only one who ever showed up was Gerard Argent, Allison’s grandfather. 

The Argents were the one who came up with the idea of sending someone to the monster every year. It was also Kate Argent who presided over the Choosing with her sour faced brother – Allison’s father – and Gerard. Personally, Stiles got the creeps from all three of them, although Allison was okay aside from the fact that she was ridiculously in love with Scott. 

Despite his personal feelings towards the Argents, their system was working. That thought was the only one that gave him the courage to make his shuffling way to the square, and he was intensely jealous of Scott’s eager pace. When they got close, Scott’s expression turned searching and Stiles watched him scan the crowd for Allison. It was obvious when he found her, because he practically vibrated with excitement. 

“I’ll be back in time for the Choosing, okay? If anyone asks I’m…”

“I got it, Scott. This isn’t my first time covering for you, you know.” Stiles’ tone was a little bitter, but he was surprised when Scott’s attention snapped back to him.

“I’ll make it up to you, I swear. Tonight is just us. Bro night, like before.” With those words, he took off, leaving Stiles sighing and shaking his head. Scott always promised the same thing, and something always came up. 

His annoyance grew as he walked through the crowd, pretending he didn’t see the disgusted looks. He just wanted to shout at everyone that it wasn’t his fault, he didn’t ask to be attacked. He didn’t ask to live through the attack, anyway. It had taken him a long time to admit to himself that he’d gone into the forest expecting to find death. There was no logical explanation for why he hadn’t. Death no longer held the attraction it once had, and the fear of facing it at the claws of the monster was what was really motivating his anger at Scott. 

“Dude, you’ll never believe what Allison and I found in Kate’s room. It was…” Scott was back at his side, breathless and flushed from his time with Allison. Stiles was spared the necessity of listening to Scott’s time with Allison by the start of the Choosing. He felt a little guilty when he turned away from Scott and towards the stage, but suppressed it at the sight of Kate Argent and the bag that held everyone’s name. 

“No need to drag this out. I’m sure you all want to get back to your lives,” she said. It was more or less the same thing she said every year. And every year Stiles wished she _would_ drag it out, because that way he could at least pretend to get ready. “So the person chosen to protect our town from the monster for another year is Scott McCall. Please come forward. Everyone else you’re free to go for another year. I hope …”

The words drowned out because Stiles couldn’t take his eyes off Scott who had gone white as a sheet, sweat beading on his forehead. A few people nearby looked at him with pity but Stiles doubted Scott was noticing anything. Stiles himself felt as if he’d been doused in cold water and then set over a flame – hot and cold all at once. 

“I… Did she say my name?” Stiles couldn’t form words – a first for him – and resorted to nodding, reaching a hand out to set on Scott’s shoulder. He didn’t know if it was to push Scott forward towards Kate or to pull him away from the horrible reality. 

Before long, a pair of men in uniform approached, taking Scott by the arms and maneuvering Stiles out of the way like he wasn’t even there. Stiles followed, pushing his way through the crowd to keep Scott in his sight. He was vaguely aware of shouting something, but it was impossible to hear through the rushing in his ears. 

How could he have ever been mad at Scott? Scott was his best friend, the only one who didn’t treat him like a freak. So what if Scott was in love? Stiles was happy for him. Allison really was a good person. And it wasn’t like her aunt enjoyed sending people to their deaths. Stiles’ progress was halted by a hand on his chest, shoving him back.

“I’m sorry. Family and friends only beyond this point.” 

“I’m…We grew up together. He’s my best friend.” The woman stepped aside, letting him pass to where Scott was sitting on a chair, hyperventilating. Mrs. McCall, Scott’s mom, was sobbing beside him, handing him his inhaler and trying to suppress the tears.

“I’m scared,” Scott said, eyes locking on to Stiles’. “You’ve seen it before. Is…is it really as bad as they say?”

Stiles wanted to lie and tell Scott that it would be okay, but he couldn’t get the words past the lump in his throat. “It’s worse,” he said. “It’s like every nightmare you’ve ever had, magnified times a thousand.”

“Oh.” Scott had stopped panting for breath and he seemed strangely calm. Just then, a figure broke through the barrier, hurling towards Scott and colliding with him. 

Allison Argent, tears streaming down her face, clung to Scott heedless of the eyes watching her. Scott buried his face in her shoulder, murmuring something that Stiles couldn’t hear. He wasn’t paying attention anyway. His attention was on Kate who was watching the scene without a hint of pity. If anything, Stiles would say she looked disgusted. It made no sense, though. Everyone liked Scott. It was inevitable, just like Jackson being a dick. Scott was just a genuinely good guy.

“Enough of the display, Allison,” Kate said after a moment. She stepped forward, putting a hand on her niece’s shoulder to pull her away. “Let his family say goodbye. Mrs. McCall has to get back to her new patient soon. Wouldn’t want poor Peter Hale to feel neglected.” 

That confused Stiles, because he’d thought the Hales had all died. He didn’t dwell on it for long because with Allison leaving, Scott’s attention was back on Stiles and his mom and his expression was stricken. 

“Guess we won’t get that guys night,” he said, obviously making an attempt at humor that would have been more effective if he didn’t look so terrified. 

“Sure we will. You’ll be fine. If you make it until morning, you’re free to come home.” It had never applied before, but the rule was there. If anyone could do it, Scott would. Stiles had to believe that. “And I’ll be with you.” 

Stiles felt everyone’s eyes on him and he couldn’t even believe what he’d said. There was no rule against going into the forest, even though most people avoided it. Stiles had more reason than anyone else to avoid it, although only Scott and his mom knew that. 

“You don’t need to do that,” Scott said. His eyes darted to the Argents who were watching closely. “Your dad needs you and my mom…” Melissa McCall choked a sob and embraced Scott. He folded into her embrace and after a few seconds he pulled away, standing taller. 

“Your mom’s going to have you and my dad would be fine,” Stiles said, hugging Scott tightly. They were both shaking, but Scott composed himself and his expression was firm when his eyes met Stiles’.

“Please, Stiles. Don’t follow me out there. Promise me.” Stiles swallowed the lump in his throat, wondering if he could keep such a promise. As little as he liked it, he knew his fear would probably paralyze him before he made it to the forest. Still, he just nodded, biting his lower lip and hugging Scott one last time before Kate came over to take him away.

Stiles watched the two figures walk away. A sob beside him reminded him that he wasn’t quite alone. Mrs. McCall was there, tears streaming down her face as she abandoned all pretense of strength. Stiles had to push back his own fear, walking over to wrap an arm around her and turn her away from where Kate and Scott were no longer visible. 

“I would take his place if I could,” she said. 

“I know,” Stiles said. She must have tried, but Scott would have refused. There was no way Scott would let his mom go into danger like that. Part of Stiles wished that he had, but the other part was glad that Mrs. McCall wouldn’t go. She was the only one who’d gotten close to Stiles’ dad since his wife had died, and Stiles liked to see his dad happy. “You should come home with me tonight. You…you shouldn’t be alone.”

They made the walk back to the Stilinski house in silence. Stiles deposited her with his dad who pulled out a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. That made Stiles’ plan easier. In an hour, the two would be too out of it to notice if Stiles slipped out and wouldn’t be able to look for him until the morning, and probably not even until afternoon when the hangovers wore off.

Stiles didn’t know what his plan was exactly; just that he was the only person who’d lived through seeing the monster. If anyone could save Scott, it would be him. As long as he wasn’t already too late. He wrote a note just in case he didn’t come back, telling his dad that he loved him but that he needed to do this.


	3. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter growly Derek.

The walk to the forest was terrifying and several times he almost turned back. The full moon shone overhead, just as it had so many years ago. Just like then, he was wandering blindly, hoping for sight or sound of Scott at the same time he was praying he wouldn’t see the monster. 

Humming under his breath, Stiles tried to make out forms in the darkness. The song was one his mother had sung to him whenever he was afraid of the dark, but without her voice it seemed to have lost it’s potency. Instead of relaxing, he felt as if every nerve was on fire and that he would burn up before he found Scott. 

In the end, he wasn’t the one who found Scott. He heard the screaming, the sound of a chase, and then silence. If he was smart, he would have run back home, but instead his feet took him towards where the final shout had been. 

“Scott!” His friend was on the ground, still in the moonlight that illuminated a pool of blood. He froze, casting his senses around to find where the monster was. A branch cracked behind him and he turned to see a strange man – but a man nonetheless. 

“Oh my god, you almost gave me a heart attack. Don’t you know you’re not supposed to be out here?” The man tilted his head and Stiles’ heart stopped when he saw red eyes. He blinked and they were green, tinged with brown and gold. He took in the rest of the man’s face – sharp jaw covered in stubble and hair matted. He was wearing torn pants, but no shirt to hide his abs. Stiles had never seen him before. He would have recognized him. No one that beautiful could stay inconspicuous. 

“Sorry,” the man said. His voice was hoarse and he cleared it, although the rasp stayed. “Your friend needs a doctor.”

“No shit.” Stiles glanced around, trying to find something to put Scott on to carry him. His heart was still beating a thousand miles a minute and every time he heard a sound he jumped a foot in the air. “Haven’t you heard of the monster?” 

The man barked out a harsh laugh, a reaction Stiles had never heard before. Most people went pale or changed the subject. No one laughed. Perhaps the guy was a psychopathic murderer. That would be Stiles’ luck; escape death by monster only to be axed by a human. 

“It ran away,” the man said, voice stilted but Stiles was too afraid to think anything of it. “I saw it take off and I came to help…”

“Scott,” Stiles said, motioning towards his motionless friend. “We’ve got to get him to my house. His mom is there. She’s a nurse. And my dad’s the sheriff. They’ll know what to do.” He spun in a circle, trying to remember the direction he’d come from. 

“I’ll carry him,” the man said, walking forward and lifting Scott as if he wasn’t a sixteen year old boy but a rag doll. 

“What’s your name, anyway?” Stiles asked, following behind the man who seemed to know exactly where he was going despite Stiles’ lack of directional sense. It was good because nothing looked familiar to Stiles. In his panic to get to Scott after the scream, he hadn’t paid attention to where he was going. 

“Derek.” Something about the name suggested something to Stiles, but he didn’t know a Derek and he certainly didn’t know this Derek. It reminded him of his mother, though. Maybe she’d told him about a Derek once. 

“Stiles,” he offered, hoping he wouldn’t have to undergo another round of ‘who names a kid Stiles’ that would end with him throwing his hands up and explaining that it was a nickname. Derek said nothing, just nodded and mouthed the word soundlessly like he was trying to remember it. 

“Why are you out here, Stiles?” Derek asked. “It’s dangerous.”

“Seriously? We’re gonna have the ‘it’s too dangerous’ conversation while you’re carrying my dying friend through the forest where there’s a monster on the loose?” Stiles knew he was on edge from the fear, but Derek’s tone was way too casual. 

“He’s not going to die,” Derek said, sounding so sure of himself that Stiles wanted to believe him. There’d been so much blood, though. Stiles bit back his argument when the edge of the forest came into view, his house a few hundred yards out with the lights still on, a beacon in the darkness. Everyone went to bed early on the Choosing. Asleep, it was possible to ignore the screaming. 

Stiles led Derek to the door, opening it to see his dad and Mrs. McCall passed out on the couch, curled up together. He gestured to Derek to be quiet and led the way to his own room, ignoring the blood and motioning for Derek to set Scott down on the bed. 

“Let him sleep. He’ll be fine.” Derek looked down at Scott for the briefest moment before turning his attention to Stiles. “And you shouldn’t be out in the forest. It’s not safe.”   
“Yeah, you said that already,” Stiles said, rolling his eyes. Scott’s clothes were soaked in blood, but he seemed to be sleeping peacefully. His skin wasn’t pale with blood loss and it was cool to the touch. Going against every instinct he’d learned from his mother, Stiles decided to let Scott sleep without bothering him for an examination. 

“Maybe you should listen, then,” Derek said, arms crossed. He looked ridiculous, blood from Scott discoloring his bare chest and glaring at Stiles. “You’re not always going to be so lucky. Twice is pushing it.” 

“Luc…Twice?” Stiles’ voice came out high pitched. “How do you know about the first time?”

Derek only stared at him until Stiles remembered. His hand went up to the scar, tracing it with his eyes closed. When he opened them, Derek was regarding him with a strange expression. It disappeared as soon as he realized Stiles was looking at him, before Stiles could identify it. 

“Of course. The hideous disfigurement. Maybe I just cut myself with a knife.” The lie fell flat and Stiles found himself flying backwards away from Derek who was walking closer too fast. The wall thwarted Stiles’ escape plans and Derek lifted a hand to his face, tracing the scar. He didn’t break eye contact until the very end. 

“I’m sorry.” The words came out in a whisper so soft, Stiles almost thought he imagined it. If it wasn’t for the pain in Derek’s eyes, Stiles would have just written it off. It made no sense. Derek had nothing to apologize for. Stiles had just opened his mouth to ask what he was sorry for when Scott twisted on the bed and moaned. Derek moved back to let Stiles’ through.

Scott opened his eyes, glancing around in terror before settling on Stiles and hauling him close to hug him. For his part, Stiles was still in shock, but when Scott reached for him he was there, tears painfully close to falling but he blinked them back. 

“I told you not to come for me,” Scott said. “What happened?”

“The monster attacked you, but it was gone when I got to you. Derek,” he glanced back and froze. There was no one in the room with him. Scott looked confused as well. “Derek carried you back.”

“Derek?”

“The dude who made a quick escape just now. Didn’t you see him?” 

“No. It was just you.” Scott gave Stiles a look that made him doubt his sanity. But Derek had definitely been there. His scar was still tingling from the touch and the pain felt numbed. “You didn’t leave me to die.”

“Of course not,” Stiles said. He was a little offended that Scott thought him capable of that. “I told you I’d get you out alive. Now go back to sleep. You owe me a guy’s night. Are…are you feeling okay, though?” 

The pool of blood was burned into Stiles’ mind, but Scott had pushed himself up and all the blood was dry. There was no new bleeding visible, although the old blood on his skin and torn shirt were blocking the view of the wound. 

“I feel fine,” he said. “Could kinda use a bath.” Scott wrinkled his nose, smelling the blood. 

“In the morning. No way am I getting water for you at this time of night. The monster is still out there, you know.” The attempted joke fell flat. Scott shuddered and lay back down. Stiles grabbed the second blanket on the bed and put it on the floor. 

“Good night, Stiles.”

“’Night, Scott.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunately, updates probably won't always be this quick. I only have two days a week to write/edit due to personal obligations and driving and work and stuff. I'll let you know if there's going to be a period where there won't be updates. For now, expect every other day.  
> Also, I'd love to hear what you're thinking so far. 
> 
> Thanks for reading. ♥ you all


	4. Chapter 3

Stiles woke the next morning to a scream beside him. His first reflex was to jump up, ready to fight the invisible enemy. By the time his eyes adjusted, Melissa McCall was holding Scott against her body, hands searching for the source of the blood and failing to find one. She was kissing his head and cheek and lips and anywhere she could reach in her desperate search. Stiles backed out of the room, hitting against something firm that could only be his dad in the doorway.

“That was a stupid thing you did last night,” the Sheriff said. Stiles refused to duck his head in shame. Instead, he met his dad’s eyes levelly. “I’m proud of you.”

“I couldn’t leave him out there,” Stiles said. He didn’t need to explain any further to his dad and they were saved any further embarrassment by Scott and Mrs. McCall calling to them. 

“You’re an idiot, Stiles,” she said, still holding Scott tightly. “Thank you.” 

Their reunion continued into the afternoon, although the Sheriff had to go right after breakfast. Scott cleaned himself up, refusing to strip in front of anyone but promising he didn’t even have a scratch on him, and borrowed some of Stiles’ clothes. No one had ever returned from the forest, and they were all hesitant about what it meant. Would Scott have to go back? Did they need to inform the Argents?

They were given the answer to both questions when Kate Argent showed up on their doorstep just after lunch. Stiles careened down the hall, throwing the door open. His grin faltered when he saw who it was. She walked in without waiting for an invitation, ignoring his comment on the subject as she glanced around for Scott.

“He’s around back,” Stiles said, wondering why that felt like he was betraying his friend. “He was in past midnight. He fulfilled your stupid requirements.”

“They are not my requirements,” she said, spinning and shoving Stiles against the wall. He held his hands up, indicating surrender and she stepped back, the fury on her face receding to her eyes. Her expression smoothed and she chuckled in apology. “This is for the good of everyone. I take no pleasure in sending people to their deaths.”

“Then you should be thrilled that Scott isn’t dead,” Stiles countered, trying not to show how shaken he was. In all the years he’d known Kate Argent, she had never lost her cool. And now one offhand comment from him had her fuming. Something was going on, and he was going to figure out what. 

“Of course I am,” she said, continuing her walk towards the back. “He’ll be a hero.”

Stiles didn’t go out with her. Something about her gave him the creeps and he knew there was nothing she could do to Scott and Mrs. McCall in broad daylight. Their house wasn’t isolated and their neighbors would see if she tried anything. 

Instead, Stiles went out the front door, following the path towards the forest almost without thinking about it. Just because the monster chose to hunt at night didn’t mean it was safe to go out during the day. But Stiles wanted to find signs of who Derek was, and the forest was his only lead. Besides, contrary to Derek’s assertion, Stiles was starting to think his lucky streak would hold. 

He was only a few yards in when his wish was granted and Derek appeared in front of him, arms folded across his chest. If looks could kill, Stiles would be six feet under. Instead, he just slowed his pace but didn’t stop until he could talk to Derek without shouting.

“You left,” he said.

“I didn’t think I was needed any longer.” Stiles didn’t really have a comeback for that. He didn’t even really know why he’d felt the desire to chase after Derek. 

“You could have said goodbye.”

“Is that what you came out here to tell me?” 

“Yes. No. I…I don’t know,” Stiles frowned. “You’re not from around here. I know everyone and you’ve never been here until last night.”

“Get out of here.” Derek’s tone was firm but Stiles refused to be intimidated. 

“No. You owe me an explanation.”

“I owe you nothing.” Derek turned to leave and Stiles jumped forward, catching his shoulder. He wasn’t prepared for how quickly Derek spun or the unmistakable red hue of his eyes. Stiles fell back and when he looked again, Derek was gone. 

The whole walk and conversation couldn’t have been more than half an hour, but when he turned to head home he found himself face to face with Kate. He felt nervous, far more so than when he’d come across Derek and he took a step back.

“Relax, Stiles,” she said, smiling for all the world like they were old friends. “I’m just here to have a chat about our mutual friend.”

“Mutual – “ 

“I don’t know how you’re doing it, but I will figure it out. You have no idea who you’re messing with.” She never lost the pleasant expression on her face as they walked into town. If he wasn’t in on the conversation, he would have suspected they were having a friendly chat. Although he supposed that was the point. 

“I’m not doing anything,” he protested, lowering his voice halfway when people turned to look at them. She had her arm looped through his, giving the illusion that he was steering but she angled him back towards his dad’s house.

“Sweetie, I don’t expect you to just tell me,” she said, laughing as she acknowledged several people who waved to her. Stiles seemed alone in his suspicion of her. Before they turned onto one of the quieter streets, he caught a glimpse of a big man with a crossbow strapped across his back. Another hunter, probably lured in by the fact the monster didn’t kill anyone on the last full moon. Kate’s gaze followed his and her lips curled up in a smile. “Oh, don’t worry. He won’t be hurting anyone with that thing. Don’t worry about our friend.” 

“Worried?” Stiles asked. “Why would I be worried? I want the monster dead. Don’t you?” Even as he said it, he wasn’t so sure. The monster hadn’t killed him and it hadn’t killed Scott. Maybe it wasn’t as evil as he’d been led to believe. But no, because it had killed dozens of others. 

“You are good. Fine, we’ll play it your way. May the best woman win.” They stopped at the end of his block and she released his arm. He shook it out a little, loosening from where she’d gripped it so tightly the blood flow had been cut off. “Goodbye, Stiles.”


End file.
